Downfall and Redemption
by Sei-sama
Summary: AU. Before the events of the show, dark forces have destroyed the Xiaolin temple, leaving Omi and Dojo as the only survivors.
1. The Downfall

Omi knew a lot about silence; he had internalized it long ago. The silence of an old temple settling down on its ancient foundations. The silence of an idyllic life, secluded from the worries of the modern world. The silence of hard work. The silence of training. The silence of meditation. The silence of nature. Omi thought that he knew silence inside and out, thought that silence was nothing if not a familiar friend.

And then he met dead silence.

It was heavier than the roof that was currently on top of him, and he could feel the presence of absolutely nothing even as he broke it by pushing off the support beam pinning his legs. Even when he filled the air with the names of his adopted family, the dead silence remained because there was nothing that could fill nothing.

The pile of rubble that compressed the air around him was too heavy to throw off, and so Omi crawled through cracks and crevices until he made it to fresh, dead air. Only then did he take the clunky scroll out of his robes. He had tucked it away when the roof caved in, and in return it had cut into his skin when he fell. Still, he clutched it close to his tender chest. It was the last thing he had been told to do. Keep it close. Keep it safe.

The dead silence was heavier now that he was out in the open, now that he was confronted with the sight of his unrecognizable home. Everything had simply been broken down to their component parts and strewn about. Logically, it was still the same temple. But Omi couldn't shake the feeling that he had wandered into some other place, because these _couldn't_ be the halls he had run about ever since he was little. This _couldn't_ be the training grounds he had spent most of his life in. It simply couldn't be.

Omi limped around unfamiliar paths created by fallen buildings and various detritus. He skirted around the rubble, his eyes trying to slide over the dry pools of blood that were sometimes accompanied by prone bodies of old men he both recognized and didn't.

"Dojo?" he ventured again, his pace quickening even as his legs buckled. "_Shīfu _Fung?" The dead silence devoured his words. Nothing would never allow something to exist within it. And so, Omi would have found nothing at all, if he hadn't noticed someone bright green in the middle of the drab ruins.

At first, Omi thought that Dojo was unconscious – but no, the dragon was shuddering. Weeping, he realized as he got closer, weeping soundlessly on a lone arm sticking out from under yet another indistinguishable pile of rubble. The sleeve of the robe was unmistakable. Only one person in the temple ever wore that color. Omi dropped the scroll.

Dojo stiffened, but wiped his face before turning around. "｢Omi! Thank goodness you're okay.｣" The dragon managed a grin but all of this was merely a vague collection of molecules compared to what was behind him. Without quite meaning to, Omi pushed him aside and fell upon the rubble on top of Master Fung. His arms screamed as he pulled at the slabs of drywall and rock, but he pretended that the dead silence swallowed that up as well, until Dojo grabbed at his dusty sleeve.

"｢No,｣" he said, his eyes staring down. "｢Omi, he's…gone.｣"

It did not take much to pull his sleeve out of Dojo's grasp. Omi didn't even need to glance at him. "｢But I must – I cannot just…｣"

Dojo's second grip was stronger this time around, and finally Omi had to look down into Dojo's eyes. This small instance of human (relatively speaking) contact was enough to remove the supports in his legs and crack the dams in his eyes.

"｢I'm sorry…you shouldn't have to…｣" Dojo gazed back towards the still arm and heaved a sigh. "｢Leave this to me, okay? Pick up the scroll. Grab whatever you want to take.｣"

At this, Omi blinked, dislodging his brimming tears. "｢We are leaving? But…where are we going?｣"

"｢Away from here,｣" Dojo replied, gesturing a stick-thin arm around at their surroundings before setting his claws on top of a large rock that had twisted Master Fung's arm in an unnatural manner.

Omi managed to stand once more and tottered vaguely in the direction of the scroll. "｢…What will you do?｣"

"｢Just listen to me, okay?｣" he pleaded.

Omi looked down at Dojo, who framed the arm of Master Fung. He turned and gazed over his unrecognizable home, the home that turned on its own inhabitants. The inhabitants who taught him, fed him, trained him, protected him. Died for him.

They had told him to run away and he had obeyed. He should have known better. They were old. He was the Chosen One. He had known this ever since he was three, and yet he left his teachers, his family, his _home_ to this fate. He should have known better. He should have fought. If he had, then maybe he could have avoided this future of dead silence and unmarked graves. If he had, then maybe…

Maybe…

Dojo took Omi's silence as reluctance. "｢Look…I can do this on my own. I don't want you to see this. Please…｣"

Omi turned his head downwards, his brow furrowed but his eyes blank.

"｢I wish to help,｣" he lied.


	2. Different Ways of Coping

**You may notice that dialogue now have these corner brackets around them. They were meant to have angle brackets in the last chapter, but then I found out the hard way that this site just makes those brackets ~disappear~ which is...annoying. I mean, c'mon, how else am I supposed to indicate that people are talking in Chinese rather than English? So anyways, that's the deal with that.**

* * *

Omi had never been as far north as the Henan province, at least as far as he knew, but he couldn't bring himself to be intrigued by the varying landscape below him. His eyes stayed firmly fixed on the scales in front of him, even as the hours passed and the sun sank. He didn't even shiver at the atmospheric chill that whipped across his face as Dojo sped along.

Dojo, for his part, said nothing. His long lifetime had inured him to grief, but his throat still closed up around the grieving, just the same as fifteen hundred years before. The way that grief could simply transform those he knew into utter strangers alienated him, made the things he wanted to say die off as though he weren't trying to comfort a friend, but some kid he came across on a bench.

Under different circumstances, Omi would have been excited to see a place other than the temple. But that was getting hard to remember the longer the boy sat and buried his eyes in the curves and crevices of Dojo's scales.

It almost seemed rude to say anything, even the trite little comforting things, and so Dojo put the heart-to-heart on hold. The only time he spoke was to announce, "｢We're here,｣" as he landed on the grounds of the Shaolin Monastery.

What Omi noticed first were the shouts of alarm when Dojo settled onto the ground. The monks that _he_ knew would have greeted a dragon's arrival with respect and some tea to recover from an undoubtedly strenuous journey; the monks surrounding them now formed a wide and broken circle around them. Every face bore the same general look, the sort of look one may have when encountering a mystical, awe-inspiring sight that ignited terrifying wonder in the imagination. Or the sort of look one may have when a dragon just landed not five feet away without any mention of what his intentions were. It was easy to get the two confused.

He knew it was silly, but the orange robes these monks wore unnerved him. Focusing on the monastery instead only served to make him more aware of just how large everything seemed. The training ground was a wide open space, free of any obstacle course. From his vantage point, he could see that it was separate from the temple grounds, which was surrounded by walls painted bright red rather than the unpainted walls he was used to.

"｢…Right.｣" Dojo coughed and waved. For most of his life, he didn't recall his appearance causing such gaping _stares_. "｢So, um, I'm a dragon," he added, gesturing to himself in the hopes that clarifying the obvious would serve to naturalize recent events. "｢And this little fella is Omi. We just came from the Southern Xiaolin Temple. I think he needs medical attention. You've got doctors here, right? Yes? No…?｣"

Someone started to push through the dumbfounded crowd and barked out orders that shattered everybody's paralyzation. "｢Jiang Li! Take the boy to the infirmary! Guan Daoren, go prepare an extra bed! The rest of you will continue training!｣" The voice was loud, sharp, feminine, everything that the voices of Omi's adopted family wasn't. And yet it forcefully brought a sense of familiarity into the air, jolting the surrounding monks back into mobility. Those who had not been picked out made way for the ones who had, and Dojo finally diminished himself to a less fearsome size now that he was sure someone would actually make sure that Omi wouldn't fall flat on his face. The one named Guan Daoren immediately disappeared, hurrying along a path that Jiang Li was following with a more measured pace considering the burden on his back. Dojo moved towards Omi, but seeing Jiang Li flinch, he twisted his course and swirled towards the _bǐqiūní _who had taken control of the situation instead. She had waited by the doorway for Jiang Li to approach, and as he continued on, she fell in by his side. Dojo draped himself around her shoulders and examined the profile of her face.

It was much rounder than he was used to, but her shaved head served to accentuate her high cheekbones, giving her a no-nonsense air. She seemed to be younger than all the monks back at the former Xiaolin Temple, but her leathery, dark skin betrayed all the stories she had undoubtedly lived through. Master Fung was someone who gave the impression of one who had grown softer with age. This one had definitely treated age as a grindstone.

"｢Tell me what happened,｣" she said, not even sparing him a glance when he had settled around her neck.

Dojo flinched, choking on his question of her identity. At the very least, he had expected a question rather than a demand. And was it really a topic to talk about in front of, and here Dojo double-checked Jiang Li's robes, an obvious disciple?

But Omi had no apparent qualms. "｢The Xiaolin Temple is destroyed. Everyone there has…passed on unpeacefully and we were unable to properly pray for their spirits,｣" he said, startling Dojo who had thought he would refuse to talk. He was still leaning his head into the nape of Jiang Li's neck and his words breathed down his robes, coming out muffled. It almost hid his shaking voice.

The elder woman snapped her eyes downwards, her brow shooting up. "｢Including the other Chosen Ones?｣"

Despite his wounds, Omi whirled his head upwards, buoyed by pure shock alone. His hiss of pain was echoed by Jiang Li, who was starting to feel nails dig into his skin. "｢Excuse me?｣" he demanded, his confusion raising his voice into outrage.

Dojo wrung his hands, feeling as though his teeth were cracking under pressure. "｢You know, we could _probably_ have this conversation in your office. I mean, you have an office, right? High-ranking person like you? And uh, he's got head trauma, he _really_ needs his rest.｣"

"｢Nobody at the temple had told him?｣" the woman asked, arching an eyebrow towards the dragon around her neck. Omi's eyes slid down towards him as well. Dojo didn't need to look at either of them to feel the pressure of their stares, one that chilled him to his eye sockets and one that scalded his scales. His tail curled itself up into a knot.

Well, this was a wonderful start.

* * *

"｢So…are those really the marks? Did you really receive Jieba?｣"

Omi glowered at the scroll. When the woman had separated from them, Dojo in tow, he had asked Jiang Li who she was. (Answer: Grandmaster Guanyin.) It had apparently been a mistake, for Jiang Li had taken his question as an invitation to stick by his medical cot and pester him non-stop.

He nodded against his better judgment. Jiang Li responded with a whirlwind.

"｢But you're so much younger than me! How did you manage to earn them? When did you become a monk? Did it hurt? Are there many dragons where you're from? Or is he the only one? What's it like riding on a dragon? What styles of kung fu do you train in? I'm learning _Tóngzigōng_ and - ｣"

"｢I _told_ you to leave him _alone!｣_"

There was the whirling sound of rustling cloth and a solid _smack_ of a towel hitting a fleeing child which made Omi straighten up, and then the room settled back into silence and the earthy smell of spices as the _thump thump thump_ of feet on the floor retreated into the distance.

When the old man settled down on his knees with sighing bones, Omi took the chance to glare full-on in his face. "｢How could you raise your hand to a disciple like that? Were you not properly taught kindness and respect?｣"

The doctor's eyebrows looked as though they were ready to fly off his face. It didn't help that they were as white as seagulls. "｢That is how you discipline children.｣"

"｢_No_, you discipline through _strenuous labor_ - ｣"

"｢For being a chatterbox?｣" the man snapped back, before running a hand down his squared nose and tugging at his whiskers, which flattened slightly as he sighed through his nostrils. "_Aiya,_ ｢I didn't come here for a lecture! Let me see your ribs.｣"

There was a pause. "｢That means letting go of that thing,｣" he added.

At this, Omi only clutched the scroll tighter, sniffing in pain when it dug itself deeper in his chest. The man raised his hands to the ceiling, seeking sympathy from the rafters. "｢Fine. Fine! At least move it out of the way!｣"

Omi allowed himself to roll the scroll off his belly, on the side further from the doctor. With some relief, the old man started poking at his chest, examining any cuts, discolorations, rattling around bottles of salve and strong-smelling herbs. He was a flurry of activity, and yet still found time to be as much of a chatterbox as Omi's previous visitor.

"｢It's a good thing you arrived after closing time,｣" he added, after meandering around topics and complaints that meant nothing to Omi whatsoever. "｢That dragon of yours would've raised a lot of hullabaloo with the tourists. Ah, that would be quite a mess!｣"

Omi's eyes blinked wide open. "｢Tourists?｣"

"｢Yeah – keep still – you know how they are. Just today I had to treat this young man who thought it would be funny to stick his finger in - ｣"

"｢You open your temple to _tourists?｣_" This time, Omi managed not to shift himself, but the man flinched his needles away regardless. He blinked twice before settling his wrinkles into a sharp scowl.

"｢If it isn't one thing, it's another. You know, the most loathed critic is the righteous one?｣"

"｢But how could you dishonor your own temple by letting in tourists who have absolutely no _understanding_ of our ways?!｣"

"｢Be_cause_," the old man replied, his voice finally raising to match Omi's, "letting in outsiders increases _awareness_ and - ｣"

"｢Arguing with a child, Shi Xing Gong?｣"

Omi felt the power of Guanyin's voice enforcing guilt upon him, and by the way Shi Xing Gong flinched, he wasn't alone. The two elders bowed to each other. Omi glanced up from his position and saw that Dojo was still around her shoulders, holding his nose to block the sharp smell of medicine. "｢How is he?｣"

"｢Very lucky. Broken rib went nowhere near his lungs or heart. No signs of a concussion. He should be walking within the week, if not the next few days.｣"

"｢So you are done for now?｣"

Shi Xing Gong hesitated, ducking under Guanyin's half-lidded stare, before clattering smelly bottles back into position and then heading out the door. The three remaining listened to the heavy slap of his sandals until it faded from their ears.

Guanyin acknowledged Omi with a small bow before kneeling beside him. Omi's grip on the handle of the scroll tightened.

"｢From what Dojo has told me, it appears that someone has released Wuya. Someone with access to many dangerous weapons.｣" Explosions rang in Omi's ears again. The walls fell before them because what else could they do? They were built with more traditional weapons in mind. Not this. Not shadowy strangers holding metal tubes that brought forth something much stronger than a dragon's breath. Omi let out a shuddering breath of his own and pinched his eyes shut.

"｢Considering the ghostly form that Dojo witnessed, I am sure her goal is to regain her body through the use of Shen Gong Wu, but it's still unclear what her intentions were in destroying the temple. After all, there are no scrolls that document the locations of any Shen Gong Wu. Even if she thought there were, she must have realized that leveling the temple would also destroy the scrolls. If her only goal was to eliminate you - ｣"

"｢Maybe you should get to the point,｣" Dojo said sharply. Guanyin paused, her lips stretched thin.

"｢Yes. Well. It is imperative that we gather the Shen Gong Wu as soon as possible now that the balance of the world has been shaken.｣"

"｢I understand," Omi replied, bowing his head slightly. "As soon as I am well, I shall - ｣"

"｢ - Stay here and complete your training.｣"

Aware that his mouth was now just hanging open, Omi clicked his teeth together and flicked his eyes towards Dojo. In this point of the conversation, the dragon had stopped meeting his stare and instead examined Guanyin's ear with great intensity. "｢I do not understand,｣" Omi said, keeping his voice as tight as his grip. "｢I believe as the Chosen One, it is my duty to shoulder such tasks as these.｣"

"｢You are not _the_ Chosen One, you are _a_ Chosen One.｣" Guanyin moved her hand delicately against her forehead, accompanied by the soothing _shush _of her robes. The sigh she heaved was not as delicate. "｢I cannot imagine why Venerable Master Fung never thought to explain to you the existence of the other Dragons nor why he spent so much time on _you_ rather than choose and train the other Chosen Ones. In any case, you are not…ready.｣"

Omi sat up this time, prompting Guanyin to jump to her feet when he sucked in a breath of pain. But he knocked away her reaching hands with his free arm. "｢I have trained my _whole life_ for this! I already have complete control over my element!" With a clench of his fist, the bottles of liquid on the shelves rattled and then shattered as their contents pushed against their confines. Dojo instinctively slithered into Guanyin's sleeve as she raised an arm to ward off flying shards. "｢Who else is more suited to this journey than I?!｣"

Surrounded by globules of free-floating liquids, Guanyin lowered her arm. The look on her face struggled to remain tranquil, and any calm she managed to exude was counteracted by the angry flush in her cheeks. Omi tried to match her cold glare with one equally chilly. Dojo, ectotherm that he was, decided he preferred the cozy sleeve for the moment.

When Guanyin spoke next, her voice was even softer, a tundra breeze in an already Arctic environment. "｢And I trust that you would stay focused on your task? That even now your mind is not entertaining dark thoughts towards the one who has destroyed your home?｣"

In response, the globules boiled over and exploded. Omi's fist remained raised and he took a deep, shaky breath. His throat felt hoarse, he realized, and yet he couldn't recall screaming.

Dojo peered out from under Guanyin's arm. The Grandmaster didn't even wipe the scalding medicine off her face. "｢You are not ready.｣"

Seeing Omi's expression, Dojo wove his way through the air and landed besides him. Settling his claws on top of his blanket, he said, "｢Look…I think she's right on this one, okay? Just…let's just calm down.｣"

Omi's face burned, and not because of the smell of mingling medicines. He finally dropped his arm and turned his head downward, but still found himself saying more. "｢…You cannot possibly do it without me. You _need_ me.｣"

"｢And _you_ seem to be under the impression that you're much more special than you actually are.｣" Guanyin didn't so much snap as hiss her words out, slowly, deliberately, like an assassin dancing knives over a victim's skin. Despite her already straight back, she managed to make herself taller. Omi could see by the way her shadow shifted and grew on the floor. "｢When in actuality, _anybody_ could have taken your place with the correct training. Master Fung called you a 'Chosen One,' and that was a mistake – you didn't get to where you are through some quirk of _destiny,_ you were simply _convenient_. An orphan child serendipitously left on his doorstep!｣"

Omi flinched at that, and Dojo drew himself up as tall as he was able. "｢Guanyin!｣" he snapped, but if he thought that was enough to stop her, he was wrong.

"｢His pampering, his neglect in telling you about the other elemental Dragons, giving you the Jieba at such a young age, all he has done is _feed your ego! _Choosing you was a _mistake!｣_" Guanyin's swinging arm very nearly knocked down the already-abused medicine shelf. Realizing that her cold voice had long ago cracked to reveal the raging rapids underneath, she snapped her fist back to her side and straightened herself up once more.

Guanyin's eyes wavered to the side, but only for a moment. "｢…You may continue your training here, but do not expect any special treatment. You technically are a mere disciple here, after all.｣" And on that note, she left the room, much faster than her dignified air would have allowed.

There was no longer anger in the air, only an overwhelming tension that left Omi gasping in his efforts to maintain calm. Dojo, realizing that his jaws had been hanging open for the past few minutes, snapped them shut and turned away from the door. "｢Don't mind her. She's just…tense. She doesn't really think that.｣"

If he had felt particularly cruel, Omi would have pointed out how funny it was, wasn't it? That it hadn't even been a full day and Dojo apparently knew the Grandmaster as intimately as he did Master Fung?

But he didn't feel cruel at all. Not because of any moral virtue, but because he simply didn't have the energy to feel _anything_. Even his eyes were too tired for tears.

Omi rubbed at the burn marks on his forehead until he was in danger of breaking skin.


	3. Not Above Suspicion

Eventually, Omi grew well enough to move out from the infirmary and into the monastery proper. His first day as an almost-healthy individual started at five-thirty, like everybody else, and breakfast started at six. Dojo was nowhere to be found in the dining hall, though he could see Guanyin moving about, helping to serve the Eight Treasures soup. Instead, he found Jiang Li. Or rather, Jiang Li found him.

It wasn't that Omi was expecting to eat alone; that would have been impossible, considering the number of people living at the monastery compared to the number of benches available. It was just that he was hoping to sit next to monks who had the good sense not to bother him, not when he was getting used to a new routine, a new home, a new loss. The thin-faced boy (even if he was older, taller, he was clearly still a boy at heart) sliding in front of him did not have that good sense at all. He was joined by another monk who was a little younger, as evidenced by the baby fat clinging to his cheeks and his (lack of) height, but who shot an apologetic look towards Omi as he sat, immediately making a better first impression.

As soon as one of the elders scooped soup into Jiang Li's bowl, he tore into it like a cat tearing into curtains. Omi watched this spectacle with his spoon raised halfway to his open mouth. The boy besides Jiang Li ate normally, not even bothered by the flecks of soup and beans that would fly towards him once in a while. In mere seconds, Jiang Li slammed his dripping bowl on the table, which at least elicited a small reaction from the people around him, and beamed at Omi. Now that the remarkably grotesque show was over, Omi realized that he had let his first spoonful dribble back into his bowl and so he bowed his head and focused on the lotus seeds and dates floating inside.

"｢I never got your name! Mine's Jiang Li.｣"

"｢I know,｣" Omi replied, his spoon clinking against the sides of the bowl as he stirred sloppily.

The other boy paused long enough to give a polite nod. "｢I'm Ankun Zhang. Sorry about him. He's like a dog when it comes to people he's interested in.｣"

"｢And what's _that_ supposed to mean?｣" Jiang Li asked, leaning towards his friend with one squinting eye. Despite his defensive tone, his face bore a wide smile that revealed the gap between his front teeth. Ankun gave way to Jiang Li's shoulder, pushed easily to the right before springing upright once more as soon as Jiang Li sat up and laughed. A girl sitting nearby shot him a nasty glare, but he didn't notice. "｢So anyways, what's your name?｣"

"｢Omi,｣" he replied after a moment of chewing.

"｢Omi what?｣"

"｢Just…Omi.｣"

Jiang Li's eternal smile finally dropped, but only for a moment. Ankun didn't react beyond flitting his eyes between him and Omi.

Another elder came around serving seconds.

Jiang Li ate slower this time around, but there was still a clear splash zone that Ankun was unfortunately sitting in.

"｢So, what's that 'Chosen One' stuff Grandmaster Guanyin was talking about?｣" he asked after wiping his mouth.

Ankun leaned an elbow on the table, languishing lazily in disbelief. "｢Like he'd just blurt out everything in a room full of - ｣"

"｢I was chosen to train as the Dragon of Water. That is what is meant by 'Chosen One.'｣"

Ankun's spoon dropped into his soup with a _plink._ His heavy-lidded eyes opened slightly, though he soon lowered his brow and ducked his head into his soup. Jiang Li, on the other hand, leaned forward until his loose robes dipped into his empty bowl. "｢A Dragon! A Xiaolin Dragon! No _wonder_ you have the _Jieba_!｣"

"｢Jiang Li!｣" Ankun hissed, face still towards his bowl. "｢You're being too loud!｣" But it was too late. They had already attracted the attention of the children sitting nearby. There was a sudden press as everybody on the bench tried to squeeze into as small a space as possible, and then a different sort of press of murmured voices.

"｢The new kid's a Xiaolin Dragon? Like Master Monk Guan was?｣"

"｢Well, he _was_ riding on a dragon.｣"

"｢But he's so young!｣"

"｢I heard they're complete masters of their own chi. Like, they can live forever and punch mountains and stuff!｣"

Despite himself, the warmth from the surrounding bodies and the babbling air wormed into Omi and warmed him to his fingertips until he couldn't help but smile. Across the table, Jiang Li looked as though he was enjoying himself as well, even as the other kids jostled his side. Ankun looked absolutely miserable, his scalp set in his hands and his chin firmly on the table. If Omi listened closely, he would have heard a low groaning that was steadily getting deeper the longer everybody talked.

"｢I am _only_ training to be a Dragon,｣" Omi said, stressing the word to be modest, rather than out of modesty. At this, Ankun started his sigh over from the top.

"｢Hey, hey,｣" Jiang Li said, his face barely containing his own grin. "｢What can you do? Show us!｣"

Jiang Li's words gave rise to a rising tide of agreements and pleas, just to see even a _little_ of some sorta awesome Xiaolin Dragon thing. Omi sat back as far as he could without falling over and held up his hands; the table quieted down immediately. Even Ankun couldn't help but sit up.

It wasn't like he was going to finish his soup, and anyways, who could pass up an audience like this? He took in a deep cleansing breath and everybody else held theirs in. And with a flex of his fingers, the soup began to dance.

He started straight off with a blooming lotus, which would have probably looked nicer if he were controlling pure water rather than bean-filled soup, and from there only delved into more intricate tricks – weaving knots that turned into dragons soaring through a tranquil and bean-y valley.

The little gasps of breath and the faint sounds of wonder that were barely louder than the background chatter served as strong encouragement even though he couldn't really hear them. But they were noticeable enough, at least in the back of his mind, that their sudden absence rocked him out of his self-indulgent stupor.

Looking up, Omi realized that the crowd had grown less claustrophobic. In fact, they had shuffled back into orderly rows on their benches. Even Jiang Li sat stiffly, quietly, eyes aimed at a speck of lotus root that had bravely escaped his bowl. Looking further up, Omi found himself staring into the face of Guanyin.

"｢Playing with our food, are we?｣"

The intricate scenery plopped back down into regular old soup. Unwilling to break eye contact, Omi craned his neck at an uncomfortable angle as he drained the broth. He let the bowl drop on the table and it wobbled on its base for a while before settling upright with a _click_. Everybody around them willfully kept their heads down.

Guanyin's eyes had only sharpened as time went on, narrowing into slits so small that they were almost closed. She was waiting for him to say something; perhaps an apology or some sort of acknowledgement. There was certainly something he wanted to say, but he didn't know what. So he said nothing at all.

It was probably for the best. Guanyin's thin eyes, her sharply soft face, her cold voice, her orange robes, they were all reminders of the permanent absence of Master Fung. Reminders that stabbed into his brain, his heart, reminders that oozed into his shoulders and solidified like cement. If he opened his mouth, they would have probably drowned him.

Guanyin scooped another ladle of soup into his bowl. "｢Eat normally if you want to fully recover.｣" Only when he saw her back retreating down the aisle did Omi lower his head. The table eased its way back to lackadaisical chatter. Jiang Li tackled his way back up to full enthusiasm.

"｢Hey, hey! After breakfast, we've got thirty minutes – wanna play some association football?｣"

"｢You're such an idiot,｣" Ankun murmured, prompting Jiang Li to grab him by the ears and roughly shake his head about.

When breakfast was over, Omi washed his bowl as quickly as possible.

* * *

Jiang Li was absolutely floored to learn that Omi had never played soccer before, or even heard of the game until now. "｢Then what did you do back at your temple?｣" He exclaimed, only to be nudged in the crook of his elbow by Ankun, who had noticed the way Omi's eyes flickered to the ground momentarily.

There was a smidgeon of a pause, which was enough time for Omi to take in a harsh breath that was free of dust, of rubble, of smoke. "｢I trained.｣"

"｢No, I mean for fun,｣" Jiang Li said, spinning the soccer ball around with both hands.

That was a good question. Omi tugged at the ends of his sleeves, his eyes flitting around as though the archives of his memory were floating right in front of him. He remembered training, both physical and mental. Chores. Meditation. He remembered lessons on all sorts of subjects taught in rooms lit only by lanterns.

"｢There was never somebody my age back there,｣" he said slowly, deliberately, willing himself to see the answer as satisfactory. On top of everything, he didn't need the strangling feeling of doubt about the quality of his life.

It was impossible to miss the glance that Jiang Li and Ankun shared, but it went by too fast for Omi to decipher it. "｢Well, we'll just have to teach you the rules, huh?｣"

"｢I mean, there's not much to it. You get the ball into the goal and you can't use your hands.｣"

At this, Omi brightened. "｢Ah! So it is an exercise in lessening your reliance on your hands!｣"

"｢Um,｣" said Ankun, running a hand over his shaved head. "｢It's really just a game.｣"

"｢But that's a good way of thinking about it,｣" Jiang Li added, a crooked smile spreading. "｢I mean, if Grandmaster Guanyin thought like that, then she'd let us play during training, right?｣"

Ankun's hand trailed down to his face and his shoulders rose like they were trying to cover his ears in embarrassment. "｢Why would you say that out _loud?_ If someone heard you, they'd force you to do the horse stance again!｣"

"｢Yeah, well…I didn't mean nothing...I mean there's nothing wrong with wanting to play some football for training…｣" The way that Jiang Li was suddenly so interested in the way the soccer ball spun around in his hands suggested otherwise. Ankun reached up to poke him in the head so that Jiang Li couldn't even pretend to ignore him.

"｢Jeez, how long have you been here? When are you gonna grow a filter between your brain and your - ｣"

Omi coughed and instantly, the two snapped back into place.

"｢Pardon me, Omi. We shouldn't have let you see that.｣"

"｢Yeah, I shoulda warned you Ankun's always like this.｣"

A dark look crossed Ankun's face, but he kept his mouth shut.

"｢It is quite alright. Perhaps we should clear our minds with a game now?｣" he said, gesturing to the training field around them.

This was enough to finally stop Jiang Li's aimless spinning. "｢Um, but you haven't played before…? Like, shouldn't we show you how it's done first?｣"

"｢Yeah, and the teams are uneven. We should get another player…｣"

Omi chuckled and said, "｢Do not be concerned about my lack of skill. You see, I am a fast learner on top of being a Xiaolin Dragon.｣"

"｢In training,｣" Ankun muttered, but nobody seemed to hear. At this point, Omi's child-like bravado was filling his chest and the only expression on Jiang Li's face was that of a kid accepting the explanation of an adult. "｢Look, I can sit out. I don't really want to play that much anyways.｣"

"｢C'mon Ankun, don't be such a spoilsport.｣" But he was already walking off to the side, settling down by the far wall. Jiang Li stared after him for a moment, but turned back with a thin scowl. "｢Man, whatever. If we argue, we'll just waste time.｣" And with that, he dropped the ball and pinned it to the ground with his foot.

"｢So the only rule is that you are not allowed to use your hands?｣"

"｢And no hitting players. So that's your goal,｣" he said, pointing to the wall behind Omi before jerking his thumb backwards, "and that's mine. So if the ball hits either wall, one of us gets a point, okay? Now step back.｣" As Jiang Li waved his hands in a shooing motion, he took a few steps backwards as well, leaving the ball behind. Without looking, he called out, "｢Hey Ankun! Can you at least referee the game?｣"

Omi barely heard a noncommittal grunt.

"｢Okay, thanks. Ready, Omi? Start!｣" Jiang Li started his sprint faster than Omi did and got to the ball sooner. But Omi sped up, kicked it through Jiang Li's legs, and followed it by leaning back and skidding. Once he was behind the other boy, he caught the ball between his ankles, sprung onto his hands while using the momentum to shoot the ball straight into the air, and then jumped back onto his feet in time to perform a spinning kick that launched the soccer ball straight across the field and into Jiang Li's wall.

The ball bounced off with a hollow _pok _and skipped on the ground before finally rolling to a stop.

Hearing no other sound, Omi carefully turned around in case Jiang Li had suddenly been swallowed up by the earth or something in the short time he had his back towards him. But no, the young disciple was still standing there, his legs spread apart in the pose he had automatically taken upon seeing Omi moving between his legs. He hadn't even turned around, simply turned his head to watch in frozen awe. But now that he saw Omi staring back, he broke through his worshipful paralyzation and ran up to him with an eagerness that bordered on ferocity.

"｢That was _so! Awesome!_ You _gotta_ show me what else you can do!｣"

From his wall, Ankun murmured, "｢I thought this was supposed to be a _game,_｣" but this time his words were too soft to overcome the atmosphere of admiration churning out from Jiang Li.

* * *

Omi was in the middle of a particularly intricate shot involving juggling the ball around with various parts of his body rather than simply kicking it to propel it forward when a long shadow crossed over the training field. Both Omi and Jiang Li skittered towards the walls as Dojo landed with a _thrum._ The people who leapt off his back were some elder monks that Omi had seen in passing and Guanyin herself. There was something in her arms, and the question of what it was bumped away the question of when they had left. He hadn't noticed Dojo leaving, and that was a hard thing to miss.

"｢Hey kiddo,｣" the dragon called out, already weaving through the air to wrap the top of Omi's head in a hug. He eventually pulled away, but kept his tail wrapped firmly around his skull. "｢Holding up okay?｣"

"｢Ye-es,｣" Omi replied, his eyes focused on Guanyin's figure moving towards the monastery proper rather than on Jiang Li shuffling nearby with his soccer ball, rather than Ankun approaching with a stare that draped itself over Dojo's scales as politeness restrained his hands. "｢Where have you been?｣"

It was clear that Dojo had been waiting for this question by the way he said, "｢Oh, just in some mountains.｣" It had a coyly sing-song quality that implied a treasure trove of information he was holding back, setting Omi up for his next question. But the dragon was too impatient to even wait for that, and promptly threw away any semblance of coyness in favor of just saying everything on his mind. "｢Okay, so I've been trying to remember all the places Dashi and I hid the Wu and Grandmaster Guanyin actually knows where some of them are so together we've been putting together a list and we just went out to grab some of the ones we know for _sure_ are in China and the Crouching Cougar was _exactly_ where I remembered and you'd never _guess_ where the Golden Tiger Claws were, they were in the Forbidden City, _right_ in the emperor's palace! Even Dashi couldn't get in back in the day! And we don't exactly have it yet, we're negotiating since they've been put on display, but we're really close to getting it thanks to _me_ doing a little pro convincing action - ｣"

"｢Did you say that Guanyin _knows_ where some of the Wu are? How?｣" The last word came out more as a snap than a question. Both Jiang Li and Ankun opened their mouths to correct him, but their hasty whisper of "｢_Grandmaster__｣"_ fell on deaf ears.

Dojo shrugged, unaware that the gesture was pointless as Omi had still not turned away from Guanyin. "｢Things get found. I guess we didn't hide some of the things as well as we thought we did. Grandmaster Guanyin's actually been tracking down whatever Wu she can. She's _really_ on top of the news, and she's been cozying up to loads of archeologists and museum owners around the world. We've been stuck up in our own little mountain, so…｣"

"｢Dojo!｣" Despite the distance, Guanyin's voice could carry itself across the field and then some. "｢We're about to open! You should come hide in my office!｣"

The dragon's entire body sagged, his enthusiasm being beaten back by the certain future of ten hours of doing nothing. Still, before he glided off of Omi's head, he found the time to say, "｢Sorry we couldn't take you. Maybe when you've fully recovered, though. I'll be sure to vouch for you, okay?｣"

Dojo and Guanyin disappeared from sight. Omi simply stood, staring at empty space, before turning back towards Jiang Li and Ankun, who immediately stood at attention when they sensed they were becoming relevant again.

"｢We're about to open?｣"

"｢Yeah, after break, we open the gates to visitors,｣" Ankun explained.

Omi's eyes flickered to the sun and back. "｢But is this not the time when you begin the first training session of the day?｣"

The two disciples shrugged in response. "｢People like watching us train.｣" Seeing the expression on Omi's face marred Jiang Li's with uncertain shame. "｢Is…that not good?｣"

Arms akimbo, Omi surveyed the training grounds with a different lens. "｢Well, _I_ would never turn my personal training into a superficial _display_. My conscious would not allow me to train for the entertainment of _tourists._｣"

"｢How fortuitous, as I believe you are not well enough to train.｣"

Jiang Li and Ankun immediately bowed, keeping their heads down longer than usual, but Omi only turned around stiffly. Guanyin bowed in return before shifting her thin eyes towards Omi. With this pattern of suddenly appearing behind him just in time to disparage whatever he said, he couldn't help but feel spied on. "｢I'm sorry that we can't devote the entire temple to your desires, as I'm sure you're used to.｣"

Omi flushed, but refused to look away. Guanyin had almost a supernatural ability to make him feel shame for the tiniest things that shouldn't be shameful at all. Maybe that was how she became Grandmaster; shaming everybody into submission. That thought alone solidified his glare.

It seemed to have little effect on her. "｢In any case, I came here to give you a job. Since you can't and won't train, I'd like you to watch over the donation bowl.｣" Guanyin's last few words managed to unbalance Omi enough that all he could do in response was to catch the bowl that she took out from her sleeve and babble a few confused but righteous syllables. "｢There's a chair and table in front of the training ground gates. Sit there and make sure nobody steals from the bowl.｣"

"｢You _solicit money_ as well?｣" Omi finally managed to say, his hands gripping the bowl tight. Behind him, Jiang Li started to shuffle uncomfortably again, waiting for another opportunity to bow and hide his face. Ankun was able to remain impassive.

"｢A temple cannot run on pure spirituality alone,｣" replied Guanyin as she bowed a goodbye to the two disciples. Jiang Li and Ankun took the opportunity gratefully. Before the _bǐqiūní_ turned to leave, she added, "｢I suggest you get to your post now.｣"

Omi would have thrown the bowl at her back, but he remembered that he was taught control. So he took a few controlled breaths and then threw the bowl at the ground.

The other monks were already starting to file in. Ankun left to take his place, but Jiang Li lingered, fingers wrapped around each other as though trying to hide behind the other. "｢So…we'll see you at lunch I guess?｣"

* * *

Watching a bowl was already intolerable, but Omi was also sitting near the training ground entrance, right where the throng of tourists congregated. They formed like a fetid clot, plugging up the gates with their warm bodies shoulder to shoulder, grinding against each other as they searched for the perfect position to aim their small devices at, devices that clicked and flashed relentlessly. Worst of all were the _lǎowài_. White-skinned foreigners with sunglasses who pointed and laughed and stared, talked in front of him like he couldn't understand every word of English they spoke, and leaned over him, saying "_ni hao_" over and over again, drawing out the vowels obnoxiously long, sounding like mere babes but worse. Even infants didn't mess up the tones as badly as they did. Their attempts to be quiet just made their noise all the more noticeable. It would be impossible for Omi to meditate and force the world away from him.

Watching the monks train was not any better. Whenever he got fed up and leapt to the top of the wall, there was always something _wrong._ The moves were recognizable, but horribly _wrong_ in some subtle way that tightened his teeth. The movements too wide. Often unnecessary. As though they prided form over function.

With his only options being 'glare angrily at tourists' and 'glare angrily at the training grounds,' Omi opted for the one that didn't involve him stepping away from the bowl. If anything, Guanyin wasn't about to accuse him of abandoning his post. The clink of coins as they landed on their brethren was at least therapeutic in that it usually signaled some family or another leaving. So he focused on this sound, willing it to continue, faster, faster, until he was so engrossed in it that the sight of passing legs that _weren't_ preceded by a _clink_ almost made him fall out of his chair in surprise and sheer affront.

He looked up and was made aware of just how long he had sat by the way his entire spine complained. The man who had walked by looked like a well-off Chinese, judging by his sleek suit and tinted glasses and neatly-groomed ponytail, which just made his negligence more inexcusable. Omi slid off the chair and swiped the bowl off the table to give chase before the man disappeared in the crowd flowing towards the monastery.

"｢Excuse me! Honorable stranger?｣" With a few quick strides, Omi was already tugging on the man's cuffs. The man whirled around, arms raised in defense, until his eyes alighted on the small boy and he relaxed.

"｢…Yes?｣" he said, straightening out his sleeve and glancing towards the monastery behind his glasses.

In response, Omi raised up the bowl. "｢I believe you forgot to do something as you were leaving, honorable stranger.｣"

There was a pause during which absolutely no money was exchanged. "｢You're kidding me.｣" Omi shook the bowl a little to make the coins clatter. The weight was starting to make his arm ache and the way that the man didn't move his hands to his pockets was not improving his mood. "｢Kid, I believe this is a _monastery._ You're way into _immaterial_ goods or whatever, aren't you? We aren't supposed to pay fees.｣"

Omi sympathized with what he said so much that it took some amount of willpower for him not to nod along with the man. But it felt as though he had taken a one-way path. He had already gotten this far. There was no going back.

"｢It is true that donations are not _required,_ but consider the spiritual rewards of donating. Such an act brings you that much closer to _nièpán_, the purification of your soul, sir. Even a little would be enough!｣"

By now, a curious crowd of tourists were slowing to a stop around them, keeping a respectable distance in a circle. Neither of them paid any mind. "｢Unfortunately for my soul, I don't have money to spare,｣" the man said, straightening his lapels and turning to leave.

Omi's strained smile broke down as their flimsy supports collapsed under the weight of his building disdain. "｢Then you are a liar and a crook! It is very clear that you _do_ have plenty of money, which you hold onto so dearly with your greedy, black heart! Know that such a soul heavy with the love of the material shall _never_ throw off the shackles of ignorance!｣"

"｢What a loud preacher,｣" the man sighed, turning around again with a dangerously crooked smile. Careful not to get dirt on his pants, he crouched low enough to be face-to-face with Omi and set a gloved hand on Omi's head with a light grip that threatened to tighten. "｢Listen, kid. Let me give you some advice – shut your mouth, go back to your job of sitting quietly for the nice foreigners, and we'll all move on like nothing's happened, okay?｣"

Omi's eyes flared as hotly as his cheeks. "｢You would not be speaking to me in this manner if you knew who I was.｣"

"｢Oh?｣" The man's crooked grin spread like cracking ice. "｢And _who_ are you, little boy?｣"

"｢_Omi!__｣"_ Guanyin exclaimed before he could even open his mouth to introduce himself. In an instant, she had pushed her way through the crowd and separated the two with surgical precision. Her grip on his head didn't threaten at all, but squeezed with a clear sign that he should let her do the talking. The man backed away, his smile melting into something more natural. "｢I am _so_ sorry, sir. This does not normally happen.｣"

"｢So you're the boss, right? You really should discipline your kids here. They could get into trouble with an attitude like that.｣"

"｢Yes, yes, you are right. We are _terribly_ sorry,｣" Guanyin said, her grin looking strange on her face. Compared to the man's sharp smile, hers was dull and revealed too many wrinkles. Every other syllable, she would nod her head, pushing down on Omi's so that he would nod as well so that all he could see clearly was the man's hands sliding easily back into his pockets. That simple movement was enough to exude a lethal amount of smugness. Omi had never realized how much he could hate such a simple action until now.

The pressure on his head increased until he was forced onto his knees. "｢_Apologize,_｣" Guanyin hissed, motioning for him to kowtow as she pushed him down even further until only dirt filled his vision. As he coughed, as dust stung his eyes as well as his pride, he knew that he would not be able to stand another day in this wretched place.


	4. For the Sake of Someone Else

Omi's apology was half-hearted and saturated with dirt but Guanyin still let him go, though he suspected it was only because the bell had rung for incantations. The elderly woman pushed him towards the stream of monks that were now filing out of the training grounds, each and every one keeping their face forward but their eyes lingering at the corners. The tourists who had encircled the scene got swept away in another distraction of culture and trailed behind the marching line, leaving Omi to trail behind as he slowly realized that not even the chants would be private.

Turning away from the crowd, Omi couldn't help but notice that Guanyin had not fallen in line as well. Instead, she was moving down a different path along with the man from before, her head still bobbing down once in a while as he strode beside her with a confidence that matched his suit. Omi soon walked into a wall.

As he rubbed at his cheek, he couldn't help but feel grateful that everybody else had continued on and so nobody had witnessed his embarrassment. By now the line of monks and the crowd that tagged behind had disappeared around a corner and, looking back, Omi saw the tail end of Guanyin's robe disappear behind a stout building.

There was no need to even think it over. Omi pattered over to the path that Guanyin and the man had taken, only slowing as he reached the corner so he could peer around it. The alley was sparsely filled with straggling tourists, who were not in the habit of wearing either robes or suits. His targets stuck out like murder. It was a simple task to keep his distance while also keeping them in sight, though occasionally the tourists he passed would point more devices at him and jabber on meaninglessly.

It wasn't that he was _spying_ on them, no, of course not. He had merely lost his way, seeing as he was still unused to the layout, and he noticed Guanyin and figured he could go and ask her and so was just trying to catch up. For three blocks.

Finally, in the time it took for about seventeen tourists to point and gawk at him, Guanyin knocked on a door of a building that stood slightly taller than the rest before inviting the man inside. As soon as the door slid shut, Omi closed the distance he had kept and soon had his ear pressed against the doorway. This wasn't the least compromising position he could take, he realized as the murmurs rippling through the air turned into something more like waves, and so he made his way around the side of the building instead. The shadows hid nothing but a particularly crowded tree, and he wound up into its branches with ease. One bough was conveniently close to a conveniently placed window, though the angle did not permit him to see the inhabitants inside very well. But that only encouraged him to slink closer. If he couldn't see them, then they obviously couldn't see him.

Their conversation was spoken in measured tones, much too soft for Omi to hear clearly even as he shimmied closer, dangerously close to the end of the branch, which responded by dipping dangerously close to its breaking point. So focused was he on maintaining balance while also trying to pick out any words in the air that Omi simply did not consider the possibility of someone else being in the tree with him.

"｢And just _what_ are you doing here?｣"

It took all of his strength of mind to not shout or fall out of the tree or even both. Instead, Omi stiffened, making the branch underneath quiver with the tension, before looking up. Dojo looked down at him. He didn't look very amused.

"｢I-I was lost,｣" Omi mumbled.

"｢You must be _pre-tty_ lost, champ,｣" Dojo said, raising an eyebrow towards the sheer tree surrounding them. Omi clutched the branch tighter and looked back down, biting his lip more out of self-awareness than shame. He could feel Dojo's stare heating up his head, the stare the dragon would break out for the rare times Omi ever felt like lying to him, like the time he accidentally flooded the greenhouse or the time all the dishes mysteriously found themselves outside the temple grounds, yet admittedly squeaky clean. The stare that said, 'You ain't foolin' anyone, kid. I'm older and wiser by, like, a lot, more than you can ever conceive. I know every trick in the book and I've heard every excuse ever made. You have only been given consciousness for a paltry decade. Do the math.'

Omi squeezed his eyes shut but his guilty mouth moved faster. "｢I skipped the morning incantations to spy on Guanyin.｣"

"｢Mm-hm,｣" said Dojo, nodding slightly but still keeping his arms crossed. The reluctant confession took with it heavy guilt, and Omi finally raised his head again. "｢And what do we think about spying?｣"

"｢May I ask what you are doing in this tree?｣"

Dojo's frown deepened for a moment, but he snorted any grievances away and said, "｢I'm not really supposed to be seen, considering most folks don't know that dragons exist. So I came out here when Grandmaster Guanyin tapped on the door. Also, I'm eavesdropping.｣"

It was Omi's turn to give Dojo a look, but before the boy could say anything, Dojo spoke over him. "｢And before you say anything, I'm not the one skipping important spiritual rituals. Also, I'm older than you and know better. Also, I'm bored.｣"

"｢I have _very_ good reasons for doing this,｣" Omi hissed back, pushing himself in a more comfortable sitting position. As he crossed his legs, he held back on voicing the accompanying thought. Instead, he leaned closer and whispered, "｢I have doubts about Guanyin's intentions.｣" Dojo raised his other eyebrow.

"｢Grandmaster Guanyin. And okay, I'll bite. What undoubtedly non-paranoid suspicions do you have about her?｣"

"｢Have you not noticed,｣" Omi began, his voice getting quieter as though that would aid in his explanation, "｢that all she has done is hinder my training and kept me from my destined task?｣"

"｢You're injured,｣" Dojo pointed out.

"｢And I am most suspicious of the manner in which she had sought out the Shen Gong Wu. Which, I remind you, were _meant_ to be kept hidden, rather than found. Why did she feel the need to keep track of them so feverishly, _before_ the balance of the world was in danger?｣"

"｢Maybe 'cause they were being found anyways and she figured it would be good to know where they were, just in case.｣" Dojo interrupted, twirling his beard around a claw.

"｢Or _maybe_ it is because she has allied herself with the forces of _evil_ and has been feeding the enemy information to our detriment!｣" The branch seemed to quiver with Omi's enthusiastically quiet accusation. Dojo's eyebrows could not physically go any higher, and so he settled for a long, cold stare.

"｢You might want to walk me from Point A to Point B.｣"

Omi unclenched his fists and started gesturing at nothing at all, as though the answers were written in the leaves around them. "｢It explains why she has been keeping me inactive, despite the fact that it is my _duty_ to maintain the balance of the world! It also explains why she had already made many preparations regarding the acquisition of the Shen Gong Wu! Not to mention, she has just invited an unscrupulous and most impolite man into her office to talk secretly about _something!_｣"

Dojo tilted his head towards the window and flicked an ear. "｢They're talking about reparations regarding the behavior of a certain monk. You wouldn't happen to know anything about that, would you?｣"

Omi crossed his arms and glared to the left. "｢He was _very_ rude.｣"

The leafy smell of the air temporarily shifted something more sulfur-y when Dojo let out a possibly-flammable sigh. Omi tried not to plug his nose as the dragon slithered down and around his shoulders. "｢Word of advice,｣" he said, patting the back of the monk's head in a way that let Omi know that he wasn't particularly in any trouble. "｢Don't tick off people in suits. They'll always give you _loads_ of trouble. It's not worth it, even if they _are_ rude. Actually, _especially_ if they're rude, since that means that they've got enough self-importance that they take any sort of insult as an excuse to show off their - ｣"

Dojo broke off suddenly, managing to skid to a stop before the Point of Old Geezer Ranting. With a cough, he changed tracks. "｢_The point is,_ I know things have been real tough for you lately, and that maybe you're getting all antsy in this monastery with nothing much to do. But you really aren't doing anybody favors by acting like this, including yourself. So maybe you should try, y'know, calming down a bit? Try to relax. Heal. Like, physically and stuff, but…not just that, y'know?｣"

Omi turned his head until Dojo's grimacing face completely disappeared from view. "｢You do not believe me.｣"

"｢Well...your story…｣" Dojo bobbed his hands like scales weighing truth. "｢…It doesn't exactly hold water.｣"

"｢Master Fung would have listened,｣" Omi muttered, so quiet that it could have been merely a breath. Dojo clamped his maw shut with a _click_ that whipped Omi's head back towards him with a hasty "｢I did not mean to offend｣" leaping from his tongue, but the dragon was already retreating higher into the tree until he seemed to be perfectly camouflaged in the leaves.

"｢It's almost lunchtime. Probably should get a head start, seeing as you're so _lost_ and all.｣"

There was no arguing against a hint like that, no response besides just taking it. The window lost its intrigue completely and so Omi found himself walking away. Not even the alienating pointing of the tourists could compete with the heavy feeling that pressed down on his head and behind his eyes.

* * *

Even if Dojo noticed nothing, there was something _wrong _about this whole situation and Guanyin was at the center of it. It was only a question of substantial proof. Or at the very least, proof that Guanyin's character wasn't as pure as her occupation implied.

Unfortunately, it seemed that she had everybody under her thumb.

"｢Why're you asking so many questions about Grandmaster Guanyin?｣" Ankun asked, swinging his legs over the wall. Jiang Li was intently poking a finger into one of the many holes drilled into a tree. Seeing as he was still under orders to not strain his body by training, Omi joined Ankun on the wall surrounding the monastery grounds. His ascent was much nimbler in comparison to Ankun's, who had reached the top with the speed of a deliberative rock-climber on one of those fake walls. By the end of his climb, Ankun had to lie down for a moment.

"｢I am simply trying to get to know my new surroundings,｣" Omi replied, his eyes constantly flitting towards Ankun's legs because they were the only thing moving. His slippers knocked against the plaster at shifting intervals, never at the same time, so that the noise never managed to fade into the background.

"｢Well I think you'd have better luck asking someone older. Like, someone who's been around about as long as her. I've only really been here six years or something.｣"

"｢That is six years longer than I.｣"

Ankun's mouth twisted into a wry smile for a fraction of a second. "｢Well…she's smart. And she's pretty strict, I guess, but it's to make us better and stuff. And she must've worked real hard to become the Grandmaster.｣"

"｢But has she ever seemed obsessive to you?｣"

Ankun's legs stopped swinging. "｢Like how?｣"

"｢Like concerning Shen Gong Wu,｣" Omi pressed. At this, Ankun finally turned to look straight at him.

"｢Shen Gong what?｣"

Omi's head turned with a speed that threatened to toss him off the wall entirely. His mouth opened to release some sort of exclamation, but his brain had too many to choose from. In the end, the only thing he could do was weakly repeat, "｢Shen Gong Wu.｣"

There was the sound of feet pounding on ground, on plaster, and then Jiang Li suddenly appeared, thrusting his arms around the top of the wall. His legs pushed and wheeled in the air until he gave up and just dangled where he was. "｢You were talking about that before, I think! Right? Is this another Chosen One thing?｣" he asked, though muffled on account of his chin being firmly set on the wall.

Omi hadn't been quite prepared for the sudden appearance of Jiang Li, and so his mind scrabbled for some sort of answer. "｢Th-they're the mystical artifacts Grandmaster Dashi created during his spiritual journeys…have, have you not learned about the exploits of Grandmaster Dashi?｣"

"｢Well of _course,_｣" Ankun replied, affronted.

"｢Yeah, like he went around the world doing cool things and got this following and discovered all this stuff about chi and taught like Chase Young and Master Monk Guan and they went around like doing good deeds and defeated evil everywhere and then Master Monk Guan came here and made this monastery.｣"

"｢But we never heard of anybody making something called Shen Gong Wu,｣" Ankun finished while Jiang Li took in a deep breath that threatened to dislodge him from the wall.

And yet Guanyin knew all about them. Which meant…something, definitely. In a dark part of Omi's mind, wheels began to spin.

* * *

The unmistakable form of Dojo made a not-so-stellar landing on the training field. As soon as he skidded to a stop, several monks swarmed him with cots already prepared. Guanyin jumped down and started barking out orders, which seemed almost unnecessary as the cot-bearers were already doing a fine job loading her companions and carting them away. Even with all the chaos, Omi managed to squeeze his way to where Dojo lay.

"｢What's going on!｣" he shouted above the ruckus, setting his hands on Dojo's snout. The dragon had still not reduced his size. His breath slipped out between his teeth in wheezes that pushed Omi back. The setting sun cast shadows across his body, which did not serve to make him look any better. Omi would have worried if Dojo hadn't opened an eye and grumbled in the way that tired, but healthy people do.

"｢I've just flown across like ten time zones for probably three hours straight. Get back to me when I've slept.｣"

With much of the pressure of the situation dissipated, Omi couldn't help but smile. Still, he shook Dojo again before the dragon had a chance to sink into a nap. "｢But what happened? Dojo!｣"

From someplace metaphysically far away, Dojo replied, "｢It's bad…something went wrong…｣" before finally shrinking down and snoring right in the dirt. At this point, Guanyin scooped the dragon into her arms and started hurrying off. Omi pursued before the crowd had a chance to close behind her.

"｢What is going on?｣" he demanded as they left behind the murmuring rabble. "｢Were you not supposed to retrieve the Golden Tiger Claws? Where _is_ it? Why did you fly _halfway across the world_ when it was right here in China? How were all those people _injured_?｣"

Guanyin's voice seemed far away as well, but not out of exhaustion. As Omi struggled to keep pace, he heard her mumble, "｢Somehow…they knew where everything was…they took everything out of all the museums…as though…｣"

"｢As though they had _connections_, perhaps?｣" Omi said, his words as sharp as his eyes, which were currently pointed up at Guanyin. The woman finally looked down at him, only now becoming aware of his presence. Her stiff expression softened just enough to form a scowl.

"｢Shouldn't you be in bed?｣" she snapped in return, setting a leathery hand on his head and spinning him around before he could retort. When he turned around again, she had disappeared.

The walk to the sleeping quarters was slow and ponderous. Obviously, someone had gotten to the Golden Tiger Claws before them, someone undoubtedly evil and most likely working for the newly-released Wuya – the person who had released her in the first place, perhaps. The question was how they could have known, considering that until recently, only Guanyin knew its location. Not only that, but they had beaten Guanyin to the other locations of the Shen Gong Wu that she had kept track of using her various connections. By chance, perhaps Dojo managed to get to a location at the same time as this mysterious thief, only for the pursuing monks to get brutally attacked. Except for Guanyin.

He didn't quite know the full situation, but he knew enough.

* * *

It took a while for everybody to get settled into sleep, considering the recent excitement, but eventually the monks succumbed to the air's caress, warm with body heat. The only thing keeping Omi awake was the sheer audacity of what he was about to do. Long after the whispering died down and the only sounds were that of rhythmic breathing, Omi lay still on his mat, straining his ears for something he might miss. It took him just about an hour to bring himself to even sit up. The journey to the door felt even longer, every step a potential alarm. It was too dark to properly see where he was stepping, and so he had to feel his way with his bare feet for coarse wood rather than a soft lump of flesh. It was only when he crawled out the door that he relaxed and sat on the threshold, slipping on his shoes.

Omi waited for a moment, listening at the door for any sound of someone getting up to follow him, but he heard nothing. With a soft sigh, he turned to the task at hand and then realized that he had absolutely no idea where Guanyin's office was.

It really didn't help that it was night – the darkness turned the monastery into something unearthly different and unfamiliar so that his already poor sense of the layout was rendered useless. Maybe things would look more recognizable at a higher vantage point. Omi readied himself to spring on the roof of the sleeping quarters, but thought better of it and leapt to the roof of the building opposite.

It turned out that 'a higher vantage point' translated to 'a bunch of roofs that look the same.' Omi almost kicked the shingles in frustration and his grunt turned into steam that curled and twisted away in the air. After going through all the trouble of sneaking out in the first place, he wasn't about to give up on his plan. At the same time, he didn't want to think about how long just aimlessly wandering could take. With another sigh for good measure, Omi jumped back down in front of the sleeping quarters.

"｢What are you doing.｣"

Omi tried to jump and spin around at the same time and just ended up falling over backwards. He tried to regain some dignity by springing back up to his feet in a ready stance and pointing dramatically at his surprise visitor. "｢Well what are _you_ – Ankun?｣"

"｢Yeah,｣" said the monk, his voice a prepubescent yawn.

"｢Where did you _come from?_ How did you follow me out without me noticing? How could you have _woken up?_｣" It was getting hard for Omi to keep his voice low, but he somehow managed. Ankun was not having any similar trouble, although he was noticeably rousing himself back into wakefulness as he started to rub his upper arms.

"｢You jumped on the roof of where I sleep. It's hard not to notice that,｣" Ankun replied, jabbing a thumb backwards.

Omi gave an incredulous glance towards the building behind Ankun. "｢But why are you sleeping in there?｣"

"｢Well, it's the girls' sleeping quarters,｣" Ankun responded, brow starting to furrow.

This answer only served to confuse Omi into repeat his question, but at a higher pitch. "｢But – but why are you sleeping _there?_｣"

Ankun gave a stare as cold as he was probably feeling. "｢Because I'm a girl.｣"

Oh.

"｢Oh.｣"

There was not much else for Omi to say besides that one syllable, and so he stood there, blankly looking Ankun up and down for what seemed like the first time. He – that is, she – shivered slightly and turned her stare into a glower. "｢You thought I was a boy?｣"

"｢Well, it is sometimes very hard to tell,｣" said Omi, finally lowering his arm.

Ankun's glower hardened into a squinty sort of glare. "｢Is that really all you have to say?｣"

"｢Huh?｣"

"｢You're unbelievable,｣" said Ankun as she hunched her shoulders and stared down to her left.

Omi opened his mouth, closed it again, and then said, "｢So…you are not stopping me from leaving…?｣"

"｢Oh, that's what you're doing, huh?｣"

Omi paused. "｢No.｣"

With a scoff, Ankun turned back towards him and gave a condescending smile. "｢Jeez, don't be so worried. I'll help you. What do you need?｣"

In his shock, Omi unconsciously replied, "｢I don't know where Guanyin's office is.｣"

"｢Alright. Come on.｣" And, still rubbing at her arms, Ankun started shuffling down a path. After a moment's hesitation, Omi followed.

The next thing that Omi said, he spoke as though he wasn't sure whether he wanted to let the words go. "｢Not that I am ungrateful, but…why exactly are you helping me?｣"

Ankun walked faster so that they were not side-by-side. Omi could only see the back of her head when she said, "｢You know, Jiang Li really does admire you.｣"

Omi blinked and let a breath out through his nose. "｢Yeah. So?｣"

"｢So that's why.｣"

The two tromped through the monastery grounds in relative silence after that, Omi mostly trying to figure out whether he was supposed to ask for clarification or not. He never got the chance to. Ankun knocked him out of his thoughts by tapping lightly on the door of Guanyin's office.

Luckily for him, none of the buildings had any locks. Omi pushed the door open but paused before entering. "｢You are really not going to…?｣"

Ankun let out a short bark of a laugh. "｢Like I'm gonna confess that I helped you run away. Just be gone before everybody wakes up.｣" And then, rubbing at her eyes, she stiffly turned around and started back to bed. Omi only watched her leave for a few seconds before pushing his way inside.

As he thought, there was a map with several markings on the desk. Several, actually, one looking like it had only recently been exposed to fresh air and the other straight from a modern atlas. Omi snatched them both before trying to find Dojo. When he stood still, he could hear snoring coming from the drawers, so he snapped them open until he found the dragon curled up on a tatty blanket. Omi poked at the side of his head.

"｢Dojo. _Wake up._｣"

Dojo's snores continued unabated until Omi finally just shook him. The dragon's snore turned into a snort and then an affronted groan. "｢Whaaaaaaaaaat. Wha'z it. Time…?｣" Dojo didn't bother waiting for an answer, instead shoving away Omi's hand and burrowing himself deeper into the makeshift bed. In response, Omi pulled him out by the tail.

"｢Dojo, we have to leave _now!_｣"

As Omi dragged him out, Dojo's head bonked against the edge of the drawer, waking him up in the rudest way possible. "_Aiya!_ _Wángbādàn, cào nǐ zǔzōng shíbā dài – _"

Instinctively, Omi covered his ears. "｢Be quiet! It's me!｣"

That woke Dojo enough for him to realize that his audience shouldn't really hear what he was saying, though not enough for him to let go of his grumpiness. "｢Omi? What _time_ is it? What the _heck_ are you doing here? Don'cha know it's bad luck to wake a sleeping dragon, hm?｣" Dojo tried to end with a conspicuous yawn, but the bump on his head left him rather yawn-less and so he had to settle for squinting in the general direction of Omi's face.

"｢We have to leave now, before Guanyin finds us here. Do you know where she keeps the Crouching Cougar?｣"

"｢Woah, woah, woah, _time out!_ Calm down, buddy. What's going on?｣"

As Dojo's voice got softer, quieter, Omi took a few deep breaths and then blurted out, "｢_Guanyin is a traitor!_｣"

The dragon slowly lowered his hands from his ears. "｢Calmer than that.｣"

Omi was gulping down air now, his mind running a marathon. "｢She knew where much of the Shen Gong Wu were, and she told evil men so they could take them to Wuya which is why they were gone when you got there, and she let those other men get beaten up, and she would have told them about the ones _you_ knew about except now we're leaving to get the Shen Gong Wu on our own so she will not do that.｣"

It took a while for Dojo to untangle that mess of a sentence, but he got the general idea. "｢Didn't we have this conversation before?｣" he asked, leaning back and making himself comfortable in Omi's fists since it seemed the boy was not letting go anytime soon.

"｢Yes, but this time my suspicious really _do_ explain everything!｣"

"｢Okaay,｣" said Dojo, weaving a claw through the air. "｢Why? What's her motivation?｣"

Omi's eyes shot up and to the left in concentration. "｢I admit it does not explain that, but the motivation is not the important part. What _is_ important is that as long as the search for Shen Gong Wu is under her command, the balance of the world is not safe, and so we must go do it ourselves.｣"

"｢Alright Omi, think about this for a sec,｣" said Dojo, trying to keep his voice level even though Omi seemed about ready to shake him for lunch money. "｢There's like a hundred and eight of 'em. If we're gonna go collect them ourselves, where are we gonna put 'em? I _assume_ not here because - ｣"

"｢ - She'll bring them to the enemy,｣" Omi finished firmly.

"｢Yeah. That. But speaking of which, where are we gonna stay? We're kinda short one temple and frankly, I don't know many places we can trust. This was the only other place I knew that was even remotely connected to Dashi. The world isn't exactly the friendliest place for a kid and a dragon.｣"

"｢I do not know,｣" Omi said with great confidence.

"｢But I suppose you still wanna go,｣" Dojo replied, his mouth somewhere in between a grimace and a smirk.

"｢This is _important,_ Dojo! If you do not wish to help, then I'll just go on my own!｣"

"｢Oh. Oohh no.｣" Dojo crossed his arms, turning his head away. He would have turned completely around if he wasn't physically restrained from doing so. "｢You aren't getting me that way. If I don't help you, you can't go anywhere, so don't you _dare_ try to guilt me into helping out your crazy schemes.｣"

"｢I _will,_ Dojo, I - ｣"

"｢You _really_ want me to believe that you'll just go out and save the world _on foot?_｣"

Omi's words stopped in his throat and went on strike, forcing his mouth to close. His grip tensed, but he loosened on reflex at the sound of Dojo's grunt. Still, his eyes didn't lose that possessed glint.

"｢Perhaps not. But please at least consider this,｣" he said, his voice losing the hysterical tinge, moving softer, softer, calling on experience. "｢If we do keep the Shen Gong Wu here, what would happen? Wuya and her allies would attack this place without remorse in order to take what they want, and no doubt they would not care if they involved unrelated people. You know this.｣"

Dojo did not contradict the statement.

"｢Therefore,｣" Omi continued, not shouting, not negotiating, not begging, "｢it will be best for everybody if we took the Shen Gong Wu with us and give Wuya a moving target.｣"

Dojo did not contradict this either. Rather, he made a disgruntled sound that slowly dragged itself into a groan. "｢_Fine._ I get it. The Crouching Cougar's under a trapdoor under her desk.｣"

Omi did not grin, only nodded and said, "｢Thank you.｣"

"｢I really hope you know what you're getting into,｣" Dojo muttered as he started writing a note while Omi opened the trapdoor.

When the sun finally shone on the Shaolin Monastery, the two visitors were long gone.


	5. Bait and Switch

Omi slept for most of the morning, because that's what usually happens to people who stay up all night. The next time he regained consciousness, he saw the afternoon sky framed by the barren branches of a tree.

He was no stranger to the cold, but he wasn't quite dressed for snow. The air here stung in comparison to the air at the monastery. At least Dojo had cleared away the snow around them, and Omi could see him just a few feet away near a small fire that was running on small twigs and dead pine needles. The dragon's back was facing him, but it was much too thin to hide the maps that he perused. Omi crawled closer to the fire, which was barely wider than his palm, and started rubbing his chapped hands over it. He didn't bother to peer over Dojo's shoulder. There was barely a shoulder to peer over.

"｢Morning,｣" Dojo said, a statement rather than a greeting. He didn't spare a glance.

"｢Where are we?｣" Omi asked, looking around and blinking in the glare of reflected light. Dojo had landed right nearby a copse in the middle of the grasslands, though at this time of year there wasn't much grass to be seen. The smoke twisted in the air and Omi watched it reach for open sky. It could probably be seen for miles, especially in such an open place like this, if it weren't for the fact that such a small amount of smoke didn't show up well in daytime. Still, Omi couldn't help but look out for approaching figures because you never know when someone might be ridiculously attracted to the smell of burning pine.

Dojo tapped a claw lightly on the modern map. "｢Right about the northern border, bucko.｣" Leaning his elbow in the Aegean Sea, he looked up and added, "｢How're you feeling? Hungry?｣"

At this, Omi wrapped his arms around his stomach, acutely aware of the absence of both a breakfast and a lunch. Dojo's gaze turned soft.

"｢We could always go back.｣"

"｢Never mind that,｣" Omi snapped, pulling closer to the map. "｢Where are we going?｣"

Dojo shrugged as he moved aside so that he was not in the way. "｢I'm not the one with the plan. Where do _you_ think we should go?｣"

There was a moment, just a short moment, when the snowy grasslands seemed to stretch on forever, pure, blinding snow as endless as the desert, much too big for the world. For some reason, he felt as though he would simply slide off into space. He felt his knees buckle even though he wasn't standing, but sitting was worse because that just meant that he wasn't _moving _and didn't intend to in the near future and that was bad because…

"｢Are there any more Shen Gong Wu hidden in China?｣" Omi suddenly asked, focusing his concentration on each word.

Dojo curled up over the older map and tugged on his beard. "｢Lessee…I _think_ me and Dashi hid one somewhere about…_here,_｣" he said, pointing at a discolored bit of paper that vaguely may have resembled a continent. Omi peered at it as one might peer at a Rorschach blot.

"｢Dojo…I cannot even tell if that is still China.｣"

If it wasn't for his diminutive size, the dragon would have pointedly snapped the slightly moldy paper in front of his face. As it was, he settled for sniffing derisively. "｢This was a _perfectly_ good map back in the fifteenth century!｣"

Omi paused to vent his sigh through a discreet eye roll. "｢Can you please point it out on _this_ map?｣"

Pressing his snout against one map and then the other, like he was snuffling out the location, Dojo finally jabbed a finger proudly somewhere to the west of their current location. "｢Here we go! Looks like now it's called…the Gobi Desert?｣"

"｢Then let us depart at once,｣" Omi said, jumping to his feet and getting dizzy in the process. The thought of deserts only made his stomach seem all the more barren, but at the same time it sounded better than the snow. Dojo stayed smaller than flying size, however, and seemed intent on tangling up his claws.

"｢Really? _Now?_｣"

"｢That _is_ what 'at once' typically means,｣" Omi replied, scuffing some snow over the fire. "｢Is there a problem?｣"

"｢_Yeah,_｣" Dojo nearly shouted as he moved in front of the fire too late to save it. "｢It's a _desert._ We aren't exactly _ready_ to just go tromping around in there!｣"

"｢But the more time we waste, the more likely that we will be beaten to it,｣" Omi shot back. "｢How many Shen Gong Wu does the Heylin side have?｣"

"｢Well, ah,｣" Dojo said, sounding somewhat far away as he silently counting eight of his fingers.

"｢And the only one _we_ have is the Crouching Cougar! Which, as I am _sure_ you realize, is not much use against something such as, for example, _the Golden Tiger Claws!_｣"

Dojo responded by massaging his forehead and growling out a sigh. "｢Okay, you've made your point,｣" he said, finally growing to flying size. As soon as Omi gathered up the maps, after fumbling with them twice, the two were off again through the sky, speeding across the lonely white expanse towards distant mountains.

Despite the chilly wind that pushed into his eyes and nipped at his cheeks, Omi pulled himself besides Dojo's ear. "｢We should also start thinking of where we ought to go next.｣"

"｢Save it 'til _after_ we land,｣" Dojo shouted back above the roar of the winter wind as they sailed over a mountain range. With a yelp, he twisted away from the whipping tendrils of a blizzard that had blindsided him, throwing fat flakes of snow in his eyes. He spun around a mountaintop, rubbing his eyes, and then continued on a wide path that avoided particularly cold-looking clouds. Omi just tried to hold on as tight as he could, which he was finding harder than usual, as though Dojo's scales had simply turned to ice somewhere a few miles back.

"｢Sorry 'bout that,｣" Dojo called back, hastily shaking some snow off his head as the temperature dropped another ten degrees. "｢I think we're here now. I'm gonna go ahead and dive down to see if I recognize anything, is that okay?｣"

Omi blinked, rubbed his watering eyes, and stared down at the painfully bright snowfield beneath. "｢This does not look at all like a desert.｣"

"｢We're up north! In _winter_! What do you want from me?｣" Dojo snapped as he circled down, seeing no other storms nearby. Nevertheless, a harsh wind saw fit to blow against them. Omi flinched, but his skin seemed to burn in response rather than shiver. "｢Are you okay back there?｣"

"｢Yes,｣" Omi replied before the question mark was fully formed. Dojo frowned, unintentionally baring his teeth in distaste.

"｢Look, don't lie to me. If you're feeling cold…｣"

"｢I'm not,｣" said Omi, and it surprised him to realize that it was true. The tips of his fingers, wrapped around the fluttering papers, were grotesquely warm, so warm that they seemed to have solidified into something other than flesh. Even though he could clearly see them, his fingers felt like they were miles away and were also perhaps not fingers at all. He was so warm it was almost suffocating, even, with the blood running thick behind his face weighing down his eyes and drowning out his ears. There was steam still coming out of his mouth, as though there was fire seated in his stomach, so that must have meant that he was saying something. Or was he just breathing?

Omi realized a second later that his eyes had shut, and then a second after that,

* * *

he woke up in an unfamiliar room that smelled of new paint and animal hide. The animal hide smell, he realized, was coming from him – rather, the hides that were piled on top of him. He found himself on a soft structure that seemed to have the function of a sleeping mat, but it was elevated by a wooden frame. There was another stacked above and from the way that the boards bent in the middle, it appeared that someone was currently occupying that one as well. Before he could even think of sitting up, Dojo's thin face appeared, pressing against his own.

"｢_Hypothermia!_ Why didn't you _tell_ me?｣" he hissed, though he certainly made it sound like a roar given how close he was. "｢You're lucky I found a place that's in the habit of taking _stupid_, cold monks in!｣"

Omi's fingers were still quite swollen, but they didn't feel so distant anymore. They simply felt uncomfortable. He sat up with some difficulty, pushing against the weight of fur until he could shove it off completely, forcing Dojo to abandon his shaming stare and jump away before he could be shoved off with everything else.

"｢Where,｣" Omi managed in a voice that did not quite sound like his before sneezing so hard that he was afraid he had stripped the walls of his throat.

"｢Russia, in Kazan, I think, some real crazy temple place,｣" Dojo replied, trying to drag the hides back up onto the bed. "｢Look, I _know_ you aren't gonna like the idea of touching these pelts, but you are _not_ going cold again - ｣"

Omi swung his legs to the floor, giving the room only the most cursory of glances. "｢I assume you could not find what we were looking for. Did they place our items somewhere else?｣"

"｢Oh _no you don't!_｣" Dojo screeched, leaping straight into Omi's chest. The boy fell over more out of surprise than anything else, considering that Dojo probably did not weigh much more than a small pouch of grain. "｢_You_ are gonna listen to _me_ for once and _stay in bed!_｣"

"｢But - ｣"

"｢I _refuse!_ To listen to your stupid logic! Anymore!｣" With practically Herculean might, Dojo managed to throw Omi's legs back into bed and push his head back on the pillow. "｢Like, alright, I get it, you've got these perfectly logical – _stay still! –_ reasons, but if you just keep throwing yourself _mindlessly_ out there, you're gonna _die_ like an _idiot! _And you know something, _I _was an idiot for letting this happen!｣"

Without particularly knowing why, Omi shot back, ignoring how uncomfortably hot his breath felt in his mouth and against his teeth, "｢Grandmaster Dashi was able to travel the world without any trouble!｣"

"｢_You aren't Dashi!_｣"

The explosive force behind that statement was enough to silence a bomb. Dojo sat above Omi, breathing heavily until he found enough air in his lungs to continue. "｢I mean…you…you're just a…｣"

The two of them knew, of course, that shouting tends to make a lot of noise. And furthermore, they knew that noise tends to wake the sleeping. But they had forgotten that there was a person right above them who was sleeping – or at least used to. A reminder came crashing down on both of their heads in the form of half-yawned words. "_Quel est ce bruit? Avez-vous enfin réveiller?_"

Quick as though he had been greased, Dojo shot into Omi's sleeve before a head peered from the top bunk and squinted curiously at Omi.

"_Le mystérieux garçon se réveille! Vous ne parlez pas français, pensez-vous?_"

The wave of what Omi supposed were words flooded his face and he completely forgot about sitting up again so that he just stared at the foreign boy above him. Only when Dojo jabbed an elbow into his did he manage to squeak out, much higher than he would have liked, "En-English?"

"Ah, _oui!_ I mean yes," the boy hastily added, hopping down from the top bunk and feeling his way to a side table. As Omi tracked him across the dim room, he noticed that his things had been placed behind a pair of glasses that the boy now set in front of his wide eyes, which grew owlishly wider behind the lens. He reached over beside the door and pushed a slider upwards, turning evening into day again. Omi's eyes flitted to the light fixture above, which he found was a bad idea as he winced and rubbed at the headache behind his eyes. The boy bounded back to the side of his bed, casting a strangely happy shadow. "I am called Boris. You are?"

The chill was starting to seep in Omi's bones again, numbing him to his toes. It was probably not so great an idea to toss down all those pelts that Boris was now standing on. But he could still feel Dojo and his righteous presence curled up in his sleeve, so he said, "I am Omi."

"You are very looky, ees what you are!" Upon seeing Omi's baffled expression, Boris backtracked a bit. "Loo – luuhh…luhh-cky. Lucky. Pardon me."

"Um, I see," said Omi, eyeing Boris' shaved head. "Boris is a name for the man?" The weight of all those years he had spent not practicing English suddenly made itself known to Omi. The thick, slurring manner in which Boris mangled his English wasn't helping too much either, and so Omi tried to defend himself against that acidic accent by mentally reviewing all those lessons about articles and verb tenses and plurals.

"Yes, Boris ees a name for boys," the bespectacled boy replied right as Dojo breathed something near Omi's shoulder that could have been something like 'Why would you even _ask_.' Whatever the dragon thought, at least that question was settled. "'ow deed you get here? Very uncommon to see _chinois_ around zis part, as I've been told! Ees ze leezard we found wiz you yours?"

Omi couldn't see the expression on Dojo's face, but he could recognize it regardless and clamped his hand around his sleeve so that the only sound that came out was a very indignant squeak. Boris did not comment on the odd way Omi was pushing himself up by his elbow while holding his wrist very tightly. Instead, he said, "Where deed eet go, do you know? I would like to take a closer look, you see."

"Excuse me, but where am I?" Omi blurted out, leaning his arm on the bed's frame as his sleeve took a strangely violent behavior. "This is another monastery?"

Boris looked down at his brown robes and chuckled, holding the ends and rubbing them between his fingers. "Ah, you are correct, alzough I am just a veesitor. From France, you know? You are in ze Tempool of All Releeshon." A frown flitted across his face. "Re-li-gee-ons."

"Mm," said Omi, struggling to hold his arm stiff at his side even though it was currently punching him in the ribs. While this was understandably distracting, honestly the only accent he ever had to deal with was the accent that Master Fung had. This one was making him dizzy. With another squeeze of his arm, Dojo finally calmed down, or at least got too exhausted to really do much anymore. "France is long way from Russia," he commented, before hissing through his teeth as though he had scalded himself. He forgot about articles _again._

"Zat ees true," Boris replied, his eager smile turning into something more subdued as he folded his arms behind his back. "I have an eemportont zhob. Zere ees somesing I need to keep safe, you see, so I had to go away."

Omi's head instinctively bowed, and he watched as his feet scuffed the fur on the floor. "I believe I am at your position as well."

Silence roosted on the rafters, with a seemingly physical weight that forced the wood to creak. In front of him, Boris shifted from foot to foot under his robes. "Well, when everysing ees all good and safe again, zen I know someone weel come and get me. You too, I'm shoor!"

"Um," said Omi.

"You are 'oongry, no?"

Omi's brow furrowed so much that it practically twisted itself into a knot. "…'Angry?'"

"No, no, hoon – 'uhngry…huhn-guh-ry."

"_Yes,_" Dojo hissed from his shoulder. Omi didn't really get a chance to repeat him as Boris had already pulled him to his feet and threw one of the discarded furs over him so that he had to hunch to stay upright. Even with this disadvantage, Omi noticed that he stood taller than Boris, an occurrence so rare that he almost wondered if he was having a feverish hallucination.

"Zere ees perhaps someone who weel cook somesing een ze keeshen for you, I'm shoor! And Brother Khanov I sink ees eenterested to talk to you! He recognized ze," and even though he was tugging him down gaudy hallways and wooden floors, Boris found the time to poke little dots on his forehead.

Omi, weighed down by the pelt of probably a bear and trying not to trip, could only spare the brainpower to ponder 'keeshen.'

* * *

The Temple of All Religions was odd, and the odd thing was it was only odd because it highlighted all the things that Omi had never thought of before and so he struggled to put into words what was so odd about it in the first place. The men that greeted him (and they were all men, with great thick beards that were like untrimmed forests rather than the cultivated gardens he was used to) were dressed in black robes that were so thick that looking at them made him want to cough. Besides Boris, there were no children, making the gathering of monks somehow joyless despite the brightly painted walls. It was probably unfair of him to describe the temple like this, considering the warm camaraderie among the men, but there were too many gaps for him to cross, in age and in race, that whatever good cheer there was in the air failed to permeate his skin.

Brother Khanov was the oldest of all, and he was not actually a Brother. "I'm just artist," he said, his mouth trying out a smile, but the way the remnants of his hair framed his head and the way age had seemed to stretch his skin too thin made it more like a grimace than anything else.

Another man poured more tea in Omi's cup. "Don't listen. He is philanthropist, very good. Yeah?"

'Philanthropist' was a mountain of a word that Omi had never even encountered before, but the steam from the kitchen was heaven to his nose and the fumes from the tea was unsticking his throat, so he only nodded.

Artist-Philanthropist-Not-Brother Khanov grunted and shot back, "_My ne dolzhny dazhe byt' sokhraneniye etikh detey zdes'! Oni dolzhny obrashchat'sya k vlastyam. YA ne postroit' priyut!_"

Another bearded man made a sound halfway between a grunt and a sigh and then spat on the floor. "_Detskiye doma prednaznacheny dlyaotkazalis'! _Not abandoned, eh? Right?" The laugh that the man then cackled as he rubbed and slapped both Omi and Boris' back was boisterous to the point of threatening. The laugh alone could have made a sober man drunk. Both of the boys just nodded, Boris folding his hands on the table while Omi clutched his cup with one hand and the table with another. Dojo just tried to be as lizard-y as possible, if lizards were fond of flitting out of sleeves in order to stuff their mouths and then zip back out of sight.

The cabbage soup seemed bottomless, and whatever spices they had put in it curdled the hair in his nose and beat back the cold with wild fists. He would have fallen asleep again, with his stomach bulging to the brink with soup and heat, if he wasn't bordering on terrified with the way these men walked and talked in their throaty language before sometimes spitting for what seemed to be no reason at all. Staring at their beards rather than their faces helped a bit because then he could imagine that he was surrounded by strange talking trees instead. Which actually wasn't so calming when he thought about it, so he didn't think about it.

This method didn't work so well on Not-Brother Khanov, who was the one without a beard. And unfortunately, he was the one who wanted to talk to him the most.

"Boodist, yes?" said the old turtle of a man, tapping his own forehead roughly with a smile. Omi set a hand over his _Jieba_ and stiffly nodded. "No Boodist done yet. Only Islam and Jewish and church. Boodist is soon."

Omi just nodded again until the meaning of the statement caught up with him. As the spices in the soup doggedly tried to turn his nose hair inside-out, he meekly said, "May I see?"

With startling alacrity, someone broke out a child-size winter outfit with a hat and scarf and everything, as though the entire room had been waiting for him to ask this one question. Every man in the room was chattering over each other now, sometimes in Russian, sometimes in English, as they practically tackled him with warm clothes. Somewhere in the chaos, Omi could see Boris sidle away and come back with his own outfit and a grin that he couldn't help but describe as treasonous. While everybody pushed him outside and wheeled him through the snow to a domed building decorated with scaffolding, it took great self-control for Omi to not break into a run the first chance he got.

And in the end, all this excitement was for a half-finished building.

"Look better when done," said one man, setting a hand on Omi's hat and pushing it down past his eyes. The other men murmured vague sounds of agreement and pointed out various aspects that he assumed they had worked on. Boris, standing beside and below Omi, was in the perfect position to see his expression and so took his hand and led him through the doorless entrance, into the immaculately bare interior.

There was a place set up for a Buddha statue, and Omi knelt in front of it despite the absence of a statue, of incense, of anything needed for the ritualistic prayer.

It was the absence that got to him, eventually. There had been too much absence in his life as of late, but this was something more symbolic. When was the next time he would happen upon another temple? When was the next time he would be able to light incense? Hold rosary beads? Even simply kneel here, as he was doing now in this husk of a temple?

If it was dangerous to step into such an unfinished building, none of the men outside said anything. Only one asked, as he stepped out, "Good?"

Omi flashed a faint smile at their beards and nodded.

* * *

"Bad?" Boris said once Omi had been hastily bundled back into bed. He had apparently inherited the habit of unhelpful, monosyllabic sentences from the brief encounter with the Russian men. At this point, Boris was starting to anticipate Omi's quizzical looks and so he clarified, "Your…posision. Eet ees very bad?"

The weight of Dojo curled up around his arm meant that this wasn't as private a conversation as Boris no doubt thought it was, and Omi tried to review his words in his mind but it was already heavy with other things that he wished he could just let go.

And he realized he could.

Staring at the bed above, he said, "I no longer have a home." Somewhere next to him, he could hear Boris dragging a chair closer to his bedside. The wood sighed as he settled in it and he sighed along with it. His voice was starting to rasp against his throat as it clenched against his own will and forced tears in his eyes. Omi took a moment to blink them away. "I…miss my family. Dojo is the one that is left and…I feel very alone and I am _scared,_" he babbled, his voice picking up speed. "And I must get better soon so I may be fit to travel again but the world is very _big_ and I do not know who to _trust,_ I have enemies but I do not know how they appear and…and I do not want to…but…but it is my duty and I am _aware_ of it so I _have _to, so why can I not think the way I _should_!"

He took another deep, rattling breath that felt like fire. Around his arm, he suddenly felt a serpentine grip tighten. Boris sat straight, hands squeezing his knees as he kicked listlessly in the air.

"But…you trust me…right?"

There was no easy way to answer. Omi was taught that sometimes the best answer is silence, and this seemed like such a time. Boris continued kicking his feet and straightened his glasses as he stared up at the ceiling.

"Well…peopool can be scared. I get scared many times before coming here. Only doing what needs to be doing matters, no?"

"No. Not for me." Omi tried to turn away but found it hard with the heavy quilt on top of him. He had been tucked away quite neatly, almost to the point where it was hard to breathe, and it was really hampering his movement. He settled for trying to nestle further under the quilt so that his face was half-buried by his crossed arms. "This is my whole life. All of my training leads here. I _cannot_ be scared because…then he has wasted his time on me all along," he mumbled.

"Per'aps eet would be better to sleep on zis?"

Another night of doing nothing. He couldn't even get one Shen Gong Wu today. He even had a whole lot of doing nothing to do in the future, judging by how he just wouldn't get better faster like he should. Omi felt like throwing up, which was a dangerously literal statement.

Boris, seeing his expression, hunched in his seat and just squeezed his knees tighter until he brightened up, bringing his hands excitedly to his face. "_Idée!_" Swinging his legs so that he leapt right off the chair, Boris brought himself closer to Omi's face with a worryingly conspiratorial grin.

"Zis ees very secret. Very hush." Despite himself, Omi actually leaned in closer as Boris whispered. He could even feel Dojo's ears perk up inside his sleeve. "Ze reason I had to leave, you see, was because ze…ah, _évêque_ foretold deesaster. I was told to take ze geeft of God and _roon away_," Boris whispered, eyes wide, waggling two fingers downward in case Omi had forgotten what running looked like. "Een tough times, ze geeft weel help, you see? But…you are not…zis ees not _ushally_ allowed, but ze geeft ees for anybody een need."

With a firm nod that seemed to convince himself more than anything, Boris reached into the collar of his robes, twisting his arm in ways that were probably not legal. "Eet weel show you, everysing weel be turning out good for you!" What Boris pulled out of his robes was thrust towards Omi with such speed that his eyes blurred and he was unable to see it clearly. He wasn't sure what he was expecting, but what he certainly had not expected was for Dojo to practically rip his way out of his sleeve as he leapt out, almost hitting his head on the top bunk, shouting "_The Crystal Glasses!_"

The gift of God bounced on Omi's covers and landed quite softly.

A moment later, Boris' head had a bit of a rougher landing on the corner of his chair, and he collapsed.

Both Omi and Dojo froze in their respective positions and just stared dumbly at the scene in front of them.


End file.
